The Red Badge of Courage
by Hayseed Socrates
Summary: Jane worries that Red John will try to go after Lisbon. He is correct. (Takes place shortly after the Devil's Cherry episode). Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm merely borrowing **The Mentalist** characters for fun and amusement.

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Jane was uneasy. The subtle fragrance of the evening's breeze as he drove down the freeway might have made him smile as recently as last week. And yet now he was on edge. His recent experimentation with the belladonna had not gone well. He'd only wanted to talk to Charlotte again, but what he had experienced was a horrible evening of nightmares and macabre hallucinations. He'd dumped the tea the next morning and hoped everything might return to some sort of equilibrium.

But who was he kidding? He'd been uneasy ever since he realized Red John knew Lisbon was important to him. It had put a brand new gnawing dread in his gut that never quite went away, adding more weight to the crushing guilt he already lived with. To make matters worse, he knew his drug induced Charlotte was right about going forward with his life - that he was wasting precious time. But he remained terrified of moving forward and what that might mean for anyone he tried to love.

He paused at a red light and unconsciously rubbed his wedding ring. It occurred to him that he might be nothing but a terrible coward. Lisbon deserved better, he told himself, and he knew he'd put her in some measure of danger already. What kind of a man does that to the people he cares about?

Lisbon, his Lisbon. She was magnificent, really, everything he wanted in a woman and a genuinely good person. Brave, honest, unselfish. Still more amazing, she knew him and still seemed fond of him - he was certain of that much. But did she really care for him? Was her affection borne of pity and kindness, rather than true attraction? He couldn't tell for sure, and that wasn't like him. Could she even imagine a life with him? Surely she was smarter than that, he chided himself. She could do so much better.

The blare of a horn sounded behind him, interrupting his unproductive ruminations. The light had turned green some time ago and he quickly pressed the accelerator down. As he eased the car back to cruising speed, his phone rang. He glanced at the display before speaking.

"Hello Lisbon!" he answered cheerfully, smiling in spite of his brooding thoughts.

His delight vanished immediately when he heard her voice whisper, "He's here, Jane."

"Where?" Jane's skin started to tingle and the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

"My apartment." Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear.

"I'm on my way, Lisbon. I'll bring the team."

"Hurry," came the whispered answer and then the beeping sound of disconnection rang in his ear.

"No!" Jane smacked the steering wheel in frustration. He quickly dialed another number.

"Jane?" Cho answered, surprised.

"Cho, Red John is in Lisbon's apartment. I'm on my way there – I'm about five minutes out."

"Rigsby's right here with me. On our way," he answered, and Jane knew they would be there as soon as possible, hopefully soon enough. After years of pursuing Red John, this was happening so unexpectedly and out of the blue, too fast for him to get his balance. Why now? He floored the Citroen and desperately wished he had someone or something to pray to.

...

Jane leapt out of his car and scanned the surrounding area as he trotted toward Lisbon's apartment. He saw nothing suspicious outside and there was no sign of Cho and Rigsby yet. When he reached her front door, it was unlocked and already open just a crack. His heart pounded wildly and he took several deep breaths to calm himself. He had no plan and no real inkling of what was about to transpire. Everything would hang in the balance here, he was sure of it, and he needed to have his wits about him. At least it would be over, he thought, and he could not fail this time.

He pushed the door open slowly and peered into the living room. Nothing. He slipped silently inside, senses hyper aware, and made his way across the room. Lisbon's shoes were strewn casually on the floor, her jacket draped over the back of the couch. A can of Coke sat on the coffee table with beads of sweat dripping down its sides. It was still cold – Red John had not been here long.

Then he heard it. A muffled voice. Sheer terror rose in him and he quickly fought it back down. There was no time for panic, he told himself. He moved silently up the stairs toward her bedroom and the voice gradually became louder. Red John was talking, but Jane heard no reply.

He reached the top of the stairs only to find the bedroom door closed. Jane felt a suffocating dread as he stared at the door, and a wave of nausea rolled up his gut. He still only heard one voice, and it was Red John's. It required every ounce of self control he had to make his hand turn the door knob. He slowly opened the door, and forced himself to look.

Red John stood hear the left wall of the bedroom, maybe a dozen feet from Jane. He was a slight man, unremarkable looking, really. He held a handgun trained on Lisbon, who was standing by her bed, a scant six feet to the right of Jane, and he allowed himself a nanosecond of relief at the sight of her. Lisbon's eyes were focused intently on Red John and she appeared unharmed. Neither Red John or Lisbon broke their gaze to look at Jane.

"Hello, Patrick," Red John cooed in his crazy calm voice. "I've been expecting you."

Jane surveyed the room and noticed that Lisbon still wore her holstered handgun. She held her hands tense at her sides.

"You okay, Lisbon?" he asked calmly.

"I've been better," she quipped without looking at him. This woman was made of steel.

He rapidly thought through the situation, and decided she'd most likely refused to take her gun off. She knew Red John wanted Jane to be here to witness whatever was going to happen, and that he would not simply shoot her unless absolutely forced. Smart girl, his Lisbon. She'd bought time.

"I'm so glad to see you again, Patrick. I wasn't planning on seeing you this soon, but the moon's phases were such that I knew it was time to act.

'Let us agree to give up love,  
And root up the Infernal Grove;  
Then shall we return and see  
The worlds of happy Eternity.'

'I knew this would be the day you see what I can provide you. You'll see how important my quest is. You will join me today, my friend."

"Why do you think that?" Jane stalled, as he ran through the possibilities in his head. He was so close. If he went for Red John, he might shoot Lisbon, but then Jane would have the seconds needed to disarm Red John. He could get his hands on the man's throat so he could squeeze the life out of this monster slowly, with his bare hands. Jane wanted that so very, very badly. But Lisbon would likely be harmed, maybe even killed.

If he leapt toward Lisbon, he could block Red John's shot and there was an outside chance it would allow her time to pull her weapon and fire on Red John. If she didn't, Red John might kill her with a second shot. He absently wondered how much a gunshot hurt before you died. He wanted a better option - surely there was one. In time, he might figure something out, but time was something he did not have.

"Today you will understand the joy I felt as I put my knife into your daughter…the exhilaration I felt as I saw the fear in her green eyes. In her moment of pain, she cried out, "Daddy! Help me!" He paused to let that sink in. "Did you know that, Patrick?"

Jane was now trembling with rage, and he glanced quickly at Lisbon, whose eyes remained focused on Red John. He steeled himself for what he had to do. He must strike quickly and unexpectedly to stop this maniac.

Red John took note of the glance.

"I have you now, don't I, Patrick. You will come to me. Do you want to know what your wife said as I…"

_Now!_ Jane decided. He took one quick stride and launched himself with every ounce of his strength into the space between Red John and Lisbon. "I'm sorry!" he shouted, as his body flew in front of hers.

The sound of a gunshot split the air, and then there was blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for the reviews, they're very much appreciated! And now onto the conclusion...

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The voice sounded far away at first, and there was a rhythm. Beep...beep…beep. Constant. And there was the pain. The entire right side of his body was on fire.

"Mr. Jane?"

He opened his eyes and squinted. The light was so bright. So bright. He blinked and the blur before him became a person. The person spoke again.

"Mr. Jane?"

Jane tried to answer but no sound emerged from his lips.

"There you are." The person seemed pleased. "How are you feeling? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you hear me."

Jane concentrated on doing as he was asked, and he must have succeeded.

"Good! You're in the hospital, Mr. Jane. You're in intensive care because of your gunshot wound, but you're going to be okay."

The memory of the scene in Lisbon's bedroom came rushing back to him and panic rose within him. _Teresa!_ _Was she hurt?_ _Was she dead?_ The beeping got faster. He desperately tried to speak, but his parched lips and tongue would not cooperate.

"What's the matter, Mr. Jane? Are you having pain? I'll get you something for that."

_No!_ he tried to scream but again nothing came out. With supreme effort, he forced a garbled whisper from his dry lips. The beeping went faster, faster.

The man leaned down closer to his face, trying to hear. Jane managed to get out a couple more sounds before the searing pain overwhelmed him.

"Easy, Mr. Jane. Easy. You want to know if the trees are okay? I'm sorry, I don't know what that means. But this will help your pain."

And then the blackness returned.

...

When the world reappeared the next time, Jane's head was clearer, and the memory of what had happened returned vividly. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the multitude of tubes and monitors scattered around his bed. His side still hurt like a demon, and he wanted someone to come back and talk to him. He had to know if she was alive. He had to know whether it mattered if he was.

After an eternity of seconds, a man in hospital scrubs entered his room and smiled at him. Jane thought he was the same man he'd tried to talk to before.

"Mr. Jane!" The man placed hand on Jane's shoulder. "Hi, I'm Dr. Newton. How are you feeling?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Do you remember what happened to you? You were shot in the back, on your right side, Mr. Jane. You had a collapsed lung, some shattered ribs, a contused kidney, and some internal bleeding. We had to take you to surgery, but fortunately there was no involvement of your liver, and we were able to get the bleeding stopped pretty quickly. It will require some healing time, but we're confident you will recover completely."

Jane attempted to speak but again couldn't seem to get any sound out. Didn't this buffoon understand how much he needed answers?

"Just rest Mr. Jane, you don't have to talk right now. I think we're figured out what you wanted to know. Some of your coworkers were in the waiting room and they worked it out. Hang on a minute, I'll be right back."

The doctor disappeared, leaving Jane alone amidst the beeping and humming of the machines. His frustration gave him the strength to finally get out some words, but they fell unheard into the empty room. "Teresa okay?"

In a few short moments, the doctor returned. Jane gathered his energy to try and ask his question again, but the doctor spoke first. "Mr. Jane, I brought you a visitor."

He stepped aside, and there she was. Teresa. Alive and well. An overwhelming sense of relief flooded his entire being. She looked totally unharmed. Actually, he mused, she looked like hell. Her eyes were puffy and red, her hair was tousled, and she had that look that only a sleepless night could give a person. And she was beautiful.

"Teresa," he managed to croak.

She walked to the side of his bed and grasped his hand tightly.

"Okay?" he strained to add.

She nodded. Tears pooled in her eyes. "I'm fine. How about you, Jane? You okay?"

The gentleness in her voice moved him deeply. He smiled. _She doesn't really understand_, he thought. _She's afraid of something._

"I killed Red John," she told him apologetically. _She's afraid of my reaction_, he realized.

"Good, " Jane whispered simply. And just like that, he was free. Like a drowning man who has burst above the surface of the water, he was alive again. _Can a person's life change this quickly_, he wondered, but then he realized, yes, it had before. Maybe it had again. A serene smile spread across his face.

He ignored his body's protests and made the effort required to guide her hand to his cheek. He turned his head ever so slightly, brushing a kiss across her fingers. He saw her eyes smile, and then the pain blotted out the world again.

...

Jane heard more voices this time but the beeping was gone. So were the bright lights, he appreciated, as he blinked open his eyes. He saw the team, standing in his room – but it was a different room – not an ICU. They were facing away from him, engrossed in conversation, and didn't notice he was awake.

Rigsby was speaking. "I'll have to say, I'm surprised he didn't go for Red John."

"I'm not," Van Pelt countered. "If Jane had gone for Red John, he would have killed Lisbon."

"But for all those years, the _only_ thing Jane ever wanted to do was kill Red John," Rigsby emphasized.

"He chose love over hate," Cho surmised in a succinct deadpan.

Rigsby and Van Pelt's heads snapped to look at Cho, surprised by his uncharacteristically poetic words.

"What?" Cho retorted.

Just then Lisbon entered the room, "Hey guys," she greeted the team, but seeing Jane awake, she walked straight to his side.

"Hey?" she smiled. "You're back." He hoped he wasn't over reading the affection in her voice.

"It appears so." His voice seemed to be working fine now. And as long as he lay perfectly still, his pain was tolerable.

The team gathered around, surprised to hear him speak. They glanced among themselves somewhat awkwardly, wondering if he'd heard their conversation.

"I'm certainly glad to see you all," Jane said with a sideways grin. "You have no idea how devastatingly bad daytime TV is." This elicited smiles and broke the tension.

They spent a few minutes in superficial joking conversation, but soon Jane felt his strength ebbing. It must have shown, because the team prepared to leave. Jane cleared his throat, getting their attention. "I'd like to say something," he announced, suddenly serious. "I know I haven't been…easy to work with...sometimes." Another pause. "Okay, a lot.

But despite that, over these years you have all risked a lot to help me, time after time." He made a small gesture toward Lisbon. "I know - you mostly did it because Lisbon here asked you to." From their faces, he knew he'd scored a hit. "But I appreciate it just the same." And then the showman's facade disappeared entirely. "Thank you. You are...my family."

With impeccable timing, a nurse burst into the room before anyone could reply and chirped sweetly, "Time for you to go to physical therapy, Mr. Jane. Sorry, you all will have to leave."

Jane met their eyes and nodded ever so slightly, and they all filed out. Lisbon hung back and gave him a tentative smile. "I'll be back in a little while," she promised. "We need to talk."

_Yes, Lisbon_, he thought, _we do. We certainly do_.

...

It was late that evening when she finally returned. She looked lovely, he thought, in her soft green sweater and jeans. She dropped her jacket into the chair and came to stand at the side of his bed.

"Past your bedtime, isn't it?," he greeted her.

"How ya doing?" she asked gently.

"Better," he nodded.

"How was physical therapy?"

He rolled his eyes, making a terrible face. "That is a truly _evil_ place down there, Lisbon. They torture people. Legally!" he said in mock horror.

"Oh, I'm sure you can handle it, " she teased. She really had marvelous eyes, he mused, and he loved how they twinkled when she taunted him.

They were quiet for a moment, and the mood shifted.

Jane patted the edge of his bed, beckoning her to sit, and said, "Tell me what happened. Please."

She hesitated but then reluctantly took a seat beside him.

"There's not a lot to tell, really. I got home late after that meeting. I was tired. I got a drink and plopped down on the couch, and then – I can't explain why – but I knew someone was there. Not just someone. I knew it was Red John. That's when I called you.

'I thought I heard a noise, but I couldn't tell where it came from. First I went over and opened the door a little so if you all showed up, you could get in. And then I went upstairs to lie down in the bed. My plan was pretend to sleep and be ready, so if he came to get me I could just sit up and blow him away.'

'But the instant I laid down - before I even had time to cover up or get my gun out - he was there, in my room. I dunno, he must have been in the closet. I jumped up but he already had a gun on me. At that point, I decided my best chance was to stall him, which wasn't that hard, actually. I think he'd finally come completely…unhinged…and he wanted to talk.'

'It was pretty clear he was setting a trap for you. Which you walked right into, by the way…"

Jane winced, a bit embarrassed at being so easily manipulated.

"From there on out everything went so quickly. You jumped…" her voice caught a little …"jumped in front of me. Red John shot you and then I shot Red John. He was dead before he hit the ground. Cho and Rigsby showed up a couple of minutes later." She sighed. "Look, I know how much you wanted to kill him, Jane, but I really had no other option." She placed her hand on his arm. "Maybe," she hesitated. "Maybe it was better this way."

"I know," he agreed quickly.

She cocked her head in surprise at his ready agreement, and then began more forcefully. "And besides!" There was real anger in her voice. "I mean _what_ were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that?!" Then just as quickly, her anger melted into a mixture of frustration and gratitude. "You saved my life, Patrick. Again."

"Maybe," he agreed. Jane measured his words carefully now. "Or maybe it's really _you_ who saved _my_ life."

She stared into his eyes intently, trying to grasp the full meaning of his words.

Jane slowly and deliberately looked down at his hands, slid the wedding ring off his finger, and placed it on the table beside the bed.

When his eyes rose to meet hers again, he watched her expression carefully. He needed to know how she felt, and he hoped her eyes would tell him. He watched her disbelief change to hope, and then to understanding. She bit her lower lip and her eyes filled with tears. "Patrick?" He was nearly sure now.

He reached for her hand and drew it to his lips, kissing it softly as he whispered, "Teresa."

He took a deep breath and mustered his courage. Time to find out if he was right. "Do you think there's a chance we could…make this work? Us?" He desperately hoped he was reading her right.

A wry looked passed over her face and she answered matter of factly. "Yeah. I think we just might."

He grinned. "Dog?" he asked.

"Nope, a cat."

"Okay. I like cats, too."

"No worrying about what I do?" she said sternly.

"I might worry, " he hedged, "but I _won't_ talk about it. I know it's who you are."

"Okay. I can live with that."

"Lots of trees in the yard?" he suggested.

She thought for a few seconds. "Okay."

He hesitated before the next question, and then ventured carefully, "Children?"

Her eyes widened at his query and her mouth fell open just a little. Then, much to his relief, she shrugged her shoulders a little and nodded an enthusiastic, "yes."

He couldn't keep a classic Patrick Jane smile from flashing across his face in triumph.

But now _she_ had a surprise for _him_. Confidently and deliberately, Lisbon leaned over him and found his lips with hers. They were soft and luscious, and he savored the taste of her. She kissed him tenderly at first, but then the kiss deepened. As she leaned over him, suspended awkwardly, she reached down with one arm to steady herself, bumping his right side in the process. The resulting spasm of pain made him gasp.

She was off the bed in a flash, flustered. "Oh my God, Patrick, I'm so sorry, I…"

He closed his eyes, willing the pain away, and held up one finger, asking her to wait. Once the wave of pain had passed, he reopened his eyes and chuckled at her.

"I'm fine, Teresa," he reassured her, but couldn't resist the opportunity. "You _know_ when I mentioned children, I didn't mean it had to be right this minute."

"Why you!" she sputtered, and he held up his hands to shield himself, grinning.

"Shh. Shush, " he admonished her. "Please. Please come back." He motioned her close to him.

She sat back on the bed with feigned reluctance, and he reached up and placed his hand on her cheek, drawing her face back down to his. "C'mere."

This time he was the one who depended the kiss. When their lips finally parted, their eyes shone dark and liquid.

"To be continued," he promised in a whisper.

"Yes," she agreed. "Definitely."

There was a knock at the door and a nurse appeared with a blood pressure cuff and thermometer. "Time for your vitals, Mr. Jane." She immediately realized she'd interrupted. "You know, I'll come back in a few minutes," she said, and disappeared again.

Lisbon stood up. "Maybe I should go," she said, peering around for her jacket.

"No!" he said quickly. "Please…would you stay…a little while longer? Just sit with me?"

"Sure," she agreed. She pulled the chair over next to his bed. "Okay."

"Thank you," he said, settling his head back into his pillow.

"You look exhausted, Patrick," she observed. "Maybe you should get some sleep." She reached up on the bed and grasped his hand in hers.

"I'm tired," he answered honestly, "of being alone." He sighed and closed his eyes.

"We could watch TV? You wanna make fun of the cop shows?" He could hear the smile in her voice and the rustling of her search for the remote.

Without opening his eyes, he replied "I'd like that." He rearranged himself to get more comfortable in the bed, sighed again, and added contentedly, "I'd like that. Very much."

The End.


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